


Love in the Dark

by thetravelinglemon100



Series: Lost for words [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 06:14:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13564557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetravelinglemon100/pseuds/thetravelinglemon100
Summary: Steven frowned and turned over more, pulling Sara close to inspect her face without thinking to ask permission. He gently ran the pads of his thumbs over her face, looking to see if she’d flinch in pain, but she didn’t, and Steven abruptly realised just how close they were. Sara was looking at him strangely in the half-light filtering through the window, and he suddenly knew with absolute clarity that if he didn’t do something now, he’d spend the rest of his life regretting it.





	Love in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on teaspoon and finally transferred over here. The Doctor, Cameca, Steven and Sara visit a 1920s Gatsby-style party. A story borne out of frustration that none of the relationships in this story are strictly canon.
> 
> In this verse, Cameca left Mexico and has been travelling with the Doctor ever since. I didn't place it at a particular time in Sara and Steven's timeline so place it wherever you'd like.
> 
> Named for the Adele song of the same name, which I listened to while editing this. Looking at the song, the lyrics don't actually relate that much, but they do in a few places.

It seemed that the party was finally coming to a close. Steven didn’t know what time it was, but guessed it must be the early hours of the morning. The problem he and Sara now faced, however, was where they should go. The Doctor and Cameca had disappeared a while ago to do something it wasn’t hard for Steven to guess at; something that neither Steven nor Sara ever needed to know about. _Ever_. This left them with the problem previously stated: they had nowhere to go.

Suddenly, both travellers felt a warm hand on their shoulder, and turned to see the inebriated smile of their host as he wrapped an arm round each of their shoulders. He seemed to be under the inexplicable impression that he knew them, and had invited them. “We both just fine here, hmm? Looks like the party’s winding up.”

Sara nodded, perfectly sober. “Seems so, but we can’t find our friends.” 

The host raised his eyebrows. “That Doctor fellow, and his dame? Lent them one of my spare rooms upstairs.” He grinned. “Say, I suppose that means you’ll be wanting a room too. Come on up and we’ll see if there aren’t any spare.” Giving them no opportunity to accept or refuse, the host (Jack somebody, Steven thought) guided them towards the ornate staircase and up two flights of stairs to the guest quarters, chattering inanely all the way.

Once they reached the corridor of rooms, Jack grinned and put a finger to his lips to indicate they should be quiet. He then began slinking down the corridor, checking the door handle of each door for a tie, or hat or, in one case, a woman’s shoe, to indicate that the room was occupied. Steven forcibly kept his mind blank when they passed a room with what he was sure was the Doctor’s cravat on the door handle. At the very end of the corridor, the second to last room, the door handle was empty.

“Seems like luck is on your side tonight.” He grinned again, a facial expression that Steven was starting to get a little tired of. “Just pop something on the door handle so no-one blunders in and you’re all set.” Jack opened the door and flicked the light switch on with a flourish, then stepped aside to let them enter the room. Once they had, he retreated down the corridor, whistling. Apparently his request for silence no longer applied.

Steven watched him go, pulled off his tie and tied it round the door handle before pulling the door shut and knocking the snip into place. He turned to find Sara gazing at the single double bed, and biting her lip. Nothing was ever simple, was it? Well, let it never be said Steven Taylor wasn’t a gentleman.

“Want me to take the chair?” He grimaced as he nodded towards the upright chair tucked against the desk. “Or the floor?”

A pause, then Sara shook her head. “That’s hardly fair on you.”

“I can manage. I’ve been in the military, remember — I’ve had much worse.”

Sara levelled him with an unimpressed stare. “And so have I.” She didn’t say anything else, but approached the bed and toed off her shoes, unclipping her necklace and dropping it on the bedside table. Cringing a little at the thought of sleeping in her dress, but lacking anything else, Sara pulled back the covers and slid under them, settling herself on her back and patting the bed beside her.

About to protest that he wasn’t that tired, Steven suddenly let out a massive yawn. He looked sheepishly at Sara and did as he was told: no was apparently not an option here. He flicked off the light, then untied his shoes, tucked his socks in and paused, awkwardly. Would he have to sleep in his shirt and trousers? He supposed so, after all, Sara was sleeping in her dress. He climbed into bed and settled himself on his side, facing away from Sara, and let out another yawn.

“Good night Sara.”

“Good night Steven.”

…

Steven rarely slept well and tonight was no exception. He’d barely dropped off before he was back in the cockpit of a fighter and trying to out-manoeuvre a ship belonging to a Rocketman, _and_ a ship belonging to the Daleks. _Apparently_ the two were working together now. As he tried to steer the ship to safety, Sara and Bret were seated behind him, working the controls of the guns and rocket-launchers. Hearing an explosion and a horrifying scream behind him, Steven tried to turn to see what had happened and, as he did so, his left elbow connected with soft flesh. There was a surprised gasp and a vice-like grip on his upper arm.

He froze, wondering who else was on the ship, as slowly, slowly, reality trickled back in. He was in a bed, in the 1920s, with Sara, and he’d just tried to turn over. The grip loosened, and Steven turned to find Sara glaring at him sleepily.

“I might not have agreed to share a bed if I thought you’d give me a black eye,” she said, dryly.

Steven scowled, why hadn’t he thought about this? “Sorry — nightmares, you know? Not much I can do about them.” He paused. “Did I hurt you?”

“I don’t think so, not really, though I might have a bruise to show off tomorrow.”

Steven frowned and turned over more, pulling Sara close to inspect her face without thinking to ask permission. He gently ran the pads of his thumbs over her face, looking to see if she’d flinch in pain, but she didn’t, and Steven abruptly realised just how close they were. Sara was looking at him strangely in the half-light filtering through the window, and he suddenly knew with absolute clarity that if he didn’t do something now, he’d spend the rest of his life regretting it.

Ever so slowly, giving Sara plenty of chance to pull away, he leant in and closed the gap between them to press his lips to hers. She tensed immediately, and Steven tensed in response, but neither of them pulled away. As she began to relax, so did he and, though he was well out of practice, Steven found himself reaching out to pull her closer. He threaded his fingers through her hair, and a little thrill ran through him when Sara pushed closer. Neither of them were good with this sort of thing, most of the time, but perhaps that was what suited them for one another.

Being distracted by his thoughts gave Sara the opportunity to push harder and, surprised, Steven rolled onto his back, Sara half on top of him and the duvet tangled about their legs. She huffed in annoyance and pulled away from the kiss to shove the duvet away, so that when Steven reached out for her, his hand met with the gorgeous bare skin of her leg. Before he even realised what he was doing, his hand was sliding up her leg and under her dress, and Sara was settling herself to comfortably straddle his hips, and there was absolutely no going back now. This was going to be their first time together, in the dark, in a strange room, in a strange time. Not that any of that mattered, really.

His other hand slid up her other leg, thumb drawing small circles against her skin as Sara leaned forward again to kiss him. The kiss was gentler than Steven expected, but he appreciated it all the more so because it was gentle. He let out a soft moan as Sara pressed her body against his and ran her fingertips over the muscles in his arms.

It didn't feel fair asking Sara to take off her dress, or start taking it off himself: it would make her vulnerable, and Steven knew she'd feel it acutely. Instead, he nudged one of her hands towards the buttons of his shirt, hoping she’d get the hint, while his thumb traced circles over her hip bone. Sara sat back and began deftly undoing his shirt buttons (and God forgive him the thoughts that raced through him when she adjusted her position). When she was done, Steven found the hem of her dress and slowly lifted it, pulling it up her body, then over her head and tossing it away (he aimed for the chair, but was pretty certain his aim was off).

He sat up, Sara now in his lap, half naked and vulnerable, and his brain just shorted out. Steven knew he should say something but he was lost for words, so instead he dipped his head to begin kissing her neck, lips travelling down from her ear, over her collarbone to her shoulder, and back again. Steven began trailing his fingers down her back, but was stopped by a gentle tug at his hair. He leant back a little to allow Sara to push his shirt off his shoulders, then back even further so should could explore his skin. She kissed her way along from shoulder to shoulder, pausing whenever she encountered one of Steven’s many scars to feel the length and shape before moving on.

Letting out a shuddery breath, Steven let her explore, controlling his baser desire to move things on; physically he wanted more, but that would come in time. Better to be patient and claim a far greater reward. Eventually, though, he pushed her away, trying to explain despite his dry throat and gravelly voice. “Even if you’re some sort of gymnast, I can’t take these off” — he gestured at his trousers — “without you moving.”

Sara smiled and rolled off Steven’s lap, then paused to watch him expectantly. Clearly now they’d passed the boundaries of whatever it was they’d set up for themselves, and hesitation no longer needed to feature. Or perhaps she was still having trouble with the idea of intimacy. Either way, Steven was happy to oblige and, unzipping his trousers, pushed them and his underwear over his hips, down his thighs and to his ankles before kicking them off. He raised an eyebrow, as if asking if he met expectations, and Sara’s eyebrow rose to match his, giving nothing away.

Smiling, Steven reached out for her warm body, reaching for her hips to pull down the soft cotton he found here and toss it away. He pulled her back into his lap as before, and unclasped the front of her bra (thankful for modern common sense about these things). She pressed her body flush against his and he moaned into her neck, breaths coming in gasps. He tried to speak, but all he could get out was a mumble of words about how gorgeous she was.

Steven was no expert at this sort of thing, but he knew enough to know he couldn’t just dive straight in. Trailing fingers down her stomach, he slipped one hand between their bodies and began to explore, noting what made Sara arch against him, his other hand on her back helping keep her steady. When he was pretty sure she’d take matters into her own hands if he didn’t do something, Steven slipped a finger inside her. She stiffened for a second before relaxing again, and he slowly began to move. The little gasps and moans she let out were entrancing, and Steven needed prompting to slip another finger inside her, and another, so engaged was he in watching her.

He didn't need prompting, however, to kiss his way down her neck to her breasts, swirling his tongue round her nipple and gently sucking on it. That, apparently, was the final straw for Sara.

"Steven if you don't do something now, I'll-"

"You'll what?" He smirked.

"I'll take care of it myself."

God forgive him his filthy thoughts (again). "Patience, Sara."

"I've been patient enough," she responded, decisively. He had received his orders, again.

"Yes ma'am."

This time it was her turn to smirk. The expression was wiped off her face, though as Steven slowly slid his fingers from her. That was, apparently, all she'd needed from him as she rose up on her knees and positioned her body closer to his, using a hand to guide him inside her and slowly sliding downwards.

The sudden pressure brought an odd moment of clarity to Steven's mind. "Sara, do we-"

She shook her head, anticipating his question, and instead rose a little on her knees before sinking down. Steven gasped and gripped her hips, running his hands over her skin but letting her set the pace. A few more hip rolls and Sara leant back, curling her legs behind Steven as if she was sitting crossed-legged. He took the hint and took a firmer hold of her hips, helping her rock her body backwards and forwards against him. The movements were small, but he didn't need anything more, and didn't doubt they'd both be able to finish this way.

Sara was making little whining noises now, the sound filling Steven's head with even more lust than was already there, prompting his breathing to become even more erratic. Hoping to help, he let go of her hips and guided her closer with one hand on her back, their bodies sliding and rubbing against each other. Just the thought of it was almost overwhelming, never mind the feeling, but Steven was determined not to be distracted. One hand slipped between them, stroking her, the other supporting her back as Steven bent to kiss her neck. She breathed in sharply as he did so and, with a wicked smile, Steven began to cover her neck in kisses, and even the odd nip of his teeth.

Their movements grew more erratic, and Steven leant back to better move his hips with hers, letting out an involuntary groan at the change of angle. Only a few more thrusts and it was too much for Steven; he came, letting out a choked sound, half in frustration that he hadn’t been able to hold on until Sara was finished. Through the haze he just managed to continue thrusting into her, just managed to sit up enough to pull her close, as close against him as he could, and kiss her neck as he moaned.

Slowly, Steven’s mind cleared and he began to feel Sara’s lips pressed against his forehead, his own head buried in her neck. Determined not to leave her unsatisfied, Steven began moving the fingers of the hand still between them, stroking over her wet flesh in as broad strokes as he could in their position, and bent his head to her breasts again. In only a few moments she was panting and writhing against him, then, with a gasp, she convulsed a few times and her whole body relaxed. Steven held her close as she shivered and convulsed her way through the aftershocks of her orgasm, continuing to stroke her until she pushed his hand away with a few noises of complaint.

Steven smiled and gently kissed her bare shoulder, savouring the warmth and taste of her skin. They remained in that position for another few minutes, not wanting to let go of each other, but soon Sara started to pull away and Steven let her. She grimaced as she pulled away, probably feeling the beginnings of an ache in her knees, and flopped down on the bed next to him. Automatically, Steven shuffled closer, arranging them into a spooning position with him as the big spoon. He placed another kiss on her bare shoulder.

"Don't let's pretend this never happened, come morning," he murmured. A pause, and he could almost hear Sara raising her eyebrow at him. Neither of them were good with this sort of thing, Sara less so than him, both of them far too used to solitude and professional relationships. But he had to try. "We have something - it would be silly, illogical, to just throw it away."

By way of answer, Sara shuffled closer to him. They lay in silence for a few minutes. "I think you're right," she finally said, "and I think if you don't pick the duvet up off the floor, we'll both regret it in the morning."

Steven huffed a laugh and sat up, shuffling to the end of the bed to retrieve the duvet, and arranging it over both of them and returning to his previous position. Hopefully, there'd be no more nightmares tonight.

…

They were both woken the next morning by the sound of someone trying the door handle to their room. Finding it locked, there was the sound of something being fiddled with, and a concerned voice, followed by a cry of triumph and the door swinging open. Frowning sleepily, Steven tried to turn his head to see who'd just let themselves into the room, and saw the Doctor, dressed and ready for the day, stride in, followed by Cameca.

"You see my dear, I told you I could pick the lock!" He made straight for the window and the closed curtains. Cameca, who'd entered slower and noticed the two figures in the bed, paused.

"Yes, my love, but I'm not sure you should have."

"Nonsense, my dear, nonsense." So saying, the Doctor grabbed hold of the curtains and yanked them open, then turned to face the rest of the room.

Sunlight streamed into the room, highlighting the two figures in the bed, their sleepy scowls, and their state of undress. The Doctor’s eyes widened, and a gleam lit his eyes. Before he could say anything, Cameca interfered.

“My dear, you were going to show me the gardens.”

“Yes, but-“

“ _My love_.” Cameca spoke firmly, warningly. She rarely presumed to tell the Doctor what to do, but this was just such an occasion. Steven and Sara’s relationship was none of their business, and they’d already intruded far more than they should have.

Acknowledging defeat, the Timelord muttered something, then strode from the room. In the doorway he called out that he’d “meet you two downstairs for breakfast in half an hour, now don’t you be late!” and took Cameca’s hand to lead her downstairs.


End file.
